Sick Ninjas, Prince Charming, Bathroom Etiquette & Porn Stars

Today I’m just going to lasso all the crazy thoughts swirling around in my head and wrestle them into word form.

It’s been an interesting few days…..

Random Thought #1: My little ninja (sounds so much better than “my kid the Chinese thug“) was sick over the weekend. So I spent a couple of nights upstairs in the guest room. Well, okay, at first I slept up there because the slats fell out of the bottom of my side of the bed, and I got tired of delicately climbing out of bed so as not to make it even worse. That’s hard to do in the middle of the night. And by the time I was ready for bed I was too tired to ask G to help fix it.

Saturday was oh so fun as my little ninja wanted me by his side the entire day. I was forced to watch him throw up every few minutes. You moms out there know how much that sucks. Poor kid. I hoped it wasn’t the sushi he ate on Thursday at the Chinese restaurant after he got his haircut.

Random Thought #2: So Sunday night I was tired of the guest bed and crept back downstairs at about 3:30 in the morning. I climbed over G and slept on his side with him. In the morning, we spent some time getting reacquainted (wink) and as I was getting up I saw this teeny tiny frog hopping across the bedroom floor.

“You have to save it,” I told G.

He went to find a cup to put over it and trap it with.

“You’re afraid to pick it up?” I asked, in disbelief. The thing was tiny.

He came back and proceeded to chase it around the bedroom, and finally opened the sliding glass door leading to the back porch.

“He’ll find his was out,” he said as he left to start his trading day.

A couple of hours later I walked in the bedroom and there was the frog, splayed on the floor by the bed, looking kind of dried up. (How long can frogs last out of water anyway?) I know it was the same frog because there was a long hair stuck to it, the same hair that was sticking to it earlier when it hopped around the room, looking kind of like it was doing some weird froggy limbo. I went to look for something to pick it up with. (Hell no I wasn’t about to pick it up!)

I got one of my little ninja’s flashcards and gently tried to lift the frog with it. It flipped over and I saw its little froggy throat throb.

It was still alive!

I flipped it back over and scooped it up onto the flashcard and took it into G’s office to show him.

“I’m going to let it go, outside by the lagoon. Maybe it will live.”

He looked at me and the frog like we were some strange circus act. I felt the need to justify my rescue.

“He’s my Prince Charming,” I said. “I left him upstairs in the guest room and he turned back into a frog, He came down looking for me.”

G went back to his computer and I took Prince Charming outside and laid him down at the edge of the lagoon. Then I scooted him over so he was actually in the water. Then I thought he might drown, so I scooted him back a little closer to the edge. The poor guy probably didn’t stand a chance, because even if he was strong enough to make it the lagoon is filled with turtles and fish and birds that swoop in occasionally to look for something to eat, like a defenseless little frog.

Random Thought #3: Last night G and I were watching The Voice and I got up to go to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” G asked.

I started to say “I’m going to see a man about a dog,” like I usually do, but then I thought, wait a minute. There has to be an equivalent way to say that, as a woman. So I said,

“I’m going to see a woman about a cat.”

I thought that was pretty clever. It’s probably not my invention, but since I’ve never heard it before I’m claiming it.

When I got back to the couch I asked G if there was a German equivalent to “I’m going to see a man about a dog.” (G is German.) He told me that in Germany they say they’re going where tigers go.

“Don’t you remember that scene in The Hangover? That’s why I laughed so hard.”

Random Thought #4: G was standing at the kitchen sink today swishing soapy water around in the wine decanter, which has been soaking for a couple of days. I know they make something to clean those suckers with. Little beads or something. But we haven’t bothered to get anything and the wine residue at the bottom just won’t come clean. And out of nowhere he says,

“If I were a porn star I could get this thing clean.”

And now you know why I have crazy random thoughts swirling around in my head today. Maybe tomorrow will be more productive.